


If Looks Could Kill

by ConstantsAndVariables



Category: Transistor (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-11 11:57:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7049662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstantsAndVariables/pseuds/ConstantsAndVariables
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sybil giggled. There it was, the crack in her facade. The woman was even more adorable when she was flustered, too. This was definitely going to be fun. (Red/Sybil and Grant/Asher, with a little bit of Red/Boxer and Sybil/Royce)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_9:56 pm._  It was night time. Warm glowing light shone from the windows of the city and cut through the deep ink of the sky. Amidst the skyscrapers rose a monolith, encircled in spires of glass and gold. _Probability of security: very high._ A mandala of hedges marked the base of the building. The city was abnormally quiet. At such a late hour, this was to be expected, but on this particular evening, something was different.  _No tracer radiation detected._ This area of the city, known to its people as the Highrise, contained the brightest and most influential minds of the city. And now they were all gathered in what may have been the most exclusive party in the history of Cloudbank.  _Consumption levels at 13%_.All was silent outside. Not even a breeze ruffled the leaves of the hedges outside. And then…

A buzz.

A click.

A small white oval shot forward through the bushes.

More silence.

Two white ovals darted from their stations and deeper into the maze. More of the small cells emerged, weaving between hedges in the garden. Nearly silent, they surrounded the building.

_Registered name of site: Reisz Ballroom. Current occupants: 5,877. Percentage of occupants registered: 98%._

_Hosts: undetected_

_Host: undetected_

_Hosts now within vicinity._

The cells began to click, swiveling towards a curiously empty space in the maze. Suddenly, a tall rectangle of light poured up from the ground and rippled in the air. A doorway. It shone for a few moments, before allowing four figures to step out. The oldest of the men surveyed the area with a speculative eye, before cuffing another lanky man on the arm.

“Well, they are certainly responsive tonight, wouldn't you say, Bracket?” Grant Kendrall mused as Royce regarded the cells carefully.

“Well, yes, but one could say that it-it can merely be attributed to-”

“Now now, gentlemen, let's not keep my guests waiting!” A woman, the youngest of the four, grinned. Straightening, the men followed her through the gates, up the polished steps and through the open entrance to the building.

 

 

* * *

 

The cacophony of the ballroom dropped like a stone into water. All heads spun towards the back of the room, desperate for a glimpse of _them_. The four swept into the room, heels clicking on the polished floors. The Camerata. And at their forefront, their figurehead. Her hair spilled onto her shoulders and framed her face in soft, ashen curls. Her dress was midnight, a deep navy blue with glimmering threads of silvers stitched in to sparkle in the low light. Her skin glowed, and her dark eyes took in the people’s wariness with a knowing smirk. Sybil Reisz was a beautiful woman. That, at least, she would freely admit. Flanking her were Asher and Grant Kendrell, newly married and both sporting smart navy tuxedos with gleaming ruby cufflinks. Royce Bracket, outfitted similarly, promptly slipped back from the group and into the shadows.

“Never was one for these kinds of things, hm?” Grant murmured into his husband's ear.

Asher scoffed, eyeing the crowd with distaste. “Would that I could say the same for Sybil. It would spare us a great deal of this torture.” As if reading his mind, Sybil shot him a wink. She was fully aware of the others’ aversion to her parties. But of course, this wouldn’t stop her from her much needed social time.

She raised a delicate gloved hand to the people, beaming. “So good to see you all!” There was scattered nervous laughter, and the party resumed. Sybil was promptly surrounded by an admiring crowd, whom she seemed all too happy to please. Hour after hour flew by, and the steady stream of martinis wrapped Sybil’s mind in a warm, blissful fuzz. She loved this sort of thing. Gave her the perfect opportunity to strengthen her connections, ensure that everything was in order. Reestablish her dominance, if you will. Not that she actually had anything to worry about. Sybil knew she wasn’t the kind of woman that anyone dared cross. Sipping from her already empty glass, though, she could feel her head begin to spin. Brushing past a cluster of young ladies in offensively bright dresses, Sybil found Asher and tugged him towards the back of the room.

“We should be done here. All of our subjects seem in order, and I have the makings of a roaring headache.” Asher sighed.

“Unfortunately for the both of us, Grant has his sights set on someone new tonight. Evidently, he just wants to ‘observe’, but God only knows how long that will take.” Sybil’s dark eyes narrowed.

“Asher. That's another two hours at the very least.” 

“And? What do you propose we do about it? If you have a solution, by all means, let’s try it.”

“You're his husband, go persuade him!” He raised an eyebrow, bemused.

“Do you honestly think anything could stop that man? He's even more stubborn than you, Sybil, and that's saying something.”

Groaning, she pushed passed him and sank down into a nearby armchair. She had half a mind to slip out while everyone was distracted. Maybe another martini would help. She absolutely adored those little olives... Sybil dimly registered that the noise of the crowd was beginning to dwindle. People were whispering and turning towards a brilliantly decorated stage near the end of the ballroom. Polite clapping and a few cheers rang out as the velvet curtains hiding the stage pulled aside to reveal a woman.

“That’s her. Our subject.” Sybil hummed thoughtfully as Asher slipped into the seat next to her, eyes on the performer. The woman had one thing going for her at least, so far as Sybil could tell. With her deep red curls, full lips, and curves barely concealed under her dress… She was ravishing. Sybil was already planning a few promotional ads for the OVC terminals when the woman brought the mic up to her mouth.

And then she began to sing and Sybil forgot how to breathe.

It was undeniably clear why Grant had chosen her. She wasn't human. No human could produce that sound, that voice. She was an angel, a goddess with a voice that lit a fire inside of Sybil. When this woman sang, each word coaxed her forward and filled her with need. This was a woman who could move mountains with a whistle, provoke storms with a hum. Her voice dipped low and sultry, before soaring up in a brilliant chorus. The crowd begged for more, enraptured, with the music. Each song seemed to break the woman's heart, so genuine and raw. By the time her last song came to a close, the people were roaring. The lights came back up, and Sybil let herself clap politely. The woman, obviously new to such a reception, grinned modestly and glided offstage.

"Red."

"Hm?" Sybil turned to Asher as he mused.

"Her name. Goes by 'Red'. She could definitely prove useful.”

“She certainly commands the people’s attention. They love her.” The two of them glanced up to where Grant now loomed over them. He took Asher’s hand, brushing a kiss over his knuckles. “Sorry for the wait, dear, I had business backstage.” Asher nodded in understanding. Snapping out of her trance, Sybil abruptly stood and wiped her hands off on her skirt.

“I’m going backstage. I shouldn't be too long.” Not waiting for a response, she swept out of the room. Asher frowned at her retreating figure.

“It would have been wise to ensure that the area was secured properly.”

“A few well timed giggles and that woman could get in anywhere without obstruction. And who would dare question the authority of the illustrious Camerata?” Grant sat down next to Asher, pulling him close to his side. “She’ll be fine.”

 

* * *

 

 

Sybil paced down the hall, eyes scanning the doors. She knew that she’d set aside the back rooms for the entertainment, but which-

She halted, the door in front her marked with a piece of tape and a roughly scrawled name.

“Red”.

Simple, yet elegant. Sybil offhandedly wondered what her first name could be, then dismissed it. The information would be easy enough to obtain anyway.

Red’s door was slightly ajar. Should she just let herself in? No. First impressions and all that. After giving her dress a brief once over, she lightly rapped her knuckles on the door. There was a rustling, and then...

“Come in.”

Sybil practically melted where she stood. It was that voice, that dulcet voice. Praying that she would be alone, Sybil slid open and door and stepped inside.

The room was small, but cozy. A few posters tacked up on the walls, one or two lamps coloring the room a warm yellow, and against the far wall, curled up in a worn armchair, was Red. She was still wearing her dress, a small caramel slip with one strap and a filmy skirt. She sat up when Sybil entered, clearly surprised. There was a pause as the two women studied each other.

“You’re one of them. The Camerata.” Sybil hid her frown. She enjoyed the automatic tinge of fear that usually came with that title, but coming from this woman, there was only curiosity. Sybil was both insulted and intrigued.

“So you’ve heard of us then,” She giggled. “Good, saves me the trouble of introductions!” Red smiled back, and already the air felt lighter.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Ms. Reisz.” Sybil loved the way her name sounded coming from Red. She loved the way anything sounded coming from that woman. Each word was like honey, melted butterscotch filling her ears and making her head spin.

“Likewise, Ms…?”

“Red.” The woman motioned to the door, where her name still hung.

“Of course, we’ve all heard of the illustrious Red, but it seems your real name has been much harder to come by.” 

Red crossed her arms, expression that of one well used to deflecting such questions. “I can imagine.”

Sybil fought to keep the smile on her face. Again, this confidence. She seemed so sure of herself. Sybil would admit, she wasn't used to such a show of resistance. But she would get her to open up before long. “Of course! It’s yours to give, after all.” Sybil chose her words carefully. “A woman like you deserves an audience. A real audience. “ 

Red brushed her heavy curls behind her ears, and Sybil could sense her curiosity. “Oh?”

“I could get you one.” Red’s face lit up, and Sybil felt her heart jump. This woman really could charm the devil himself. 

“Really? You would- I haven’t even-” Sybil giggled. There it was, the crack in her facade. She was even more adorable when she was flustered. This was going to be so much fun.

“Of course! I know a star when I see one.” Sybil waved away Red’s thanks, winking. “I’ll be checking up on you, dear!” She didn't try to hide her grin as she swept out of the room and back to her boys. Asher chuckled she approached.

"Happy now?"

Sybil ignored him, and turned to Grant. "We're keeping this one. I have a good feeling about her."

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

It had been a few weeks since they’d first met, and Sybil hadn't missed a performance since. She was always there, already inside Red’s dressing room by the time she’d made it backstage. The singer would always return bright eyed and breathless, adrenaline pumping from each show. It astonished Sybil. No matter how many times her manager scheduled performances, Red attacked each one with fervent determination. She was truly a sight to behold. Sybil could only dream of what might happen if Red was ever given a weapon.

 

* * *

 

Sybil’s heels made satisfying clicks on the sidewalk as she approached the cafe. The morning was crisp and cold, with brilliant blue skies and a breeze that cut through the air like a knife. Despite her pleas to Asher, the man had refused to alter the CTV’s scheduled weather plans for her day with Red. But Sybil could make do. She’d planned a day of shopping out in the city, followed by lunch. Later, she would take her up to the gondolas in High Rise, where they could look down on the city lights from among the clouds. The rest of the night would be open for... Improvisation. Sybil smirked inwardly. It was perfect, really. Red wouldn't be able to resist her.

Silence enveloped the cafe as Sybil walked in. She noted smugly that the people were sneaking glances at her, some frantically straightening their clothes and sitting up a little straighter. Usually, she would have made a show of flicking off her sunglasses and pulling away her coat. Sadly, she didn't have time to revel in the attention today. She spotted Red in the corner of the cafe, tucked into a small booth. Their eyes met, and Sybil waggled her fingers. A timid wisp of a waitress approached her, wringing her hands.

“Ms. Reisz! What a surprise! Would you- can I get you a-”

“Coffee, dear. Two sugars.” Sybil shrugged off her coat and practically skipped over to the booth. Red was preoccupied now, scribbling on a small notepad. Sybil faltered as she approached. The light shining in through the window caught on the woman’s hair, making it shimmer with threads of spun gold. Her dress was tugged low over her collar, revealing a stretch of pale, soft skin that rose and fell with each breath. She looked up, and her eyes sparkled like shards of pale blue glass. She was breathtaking. Sybil felt her face flush as she slid into the seat across from her. The way that the corners of Red’s mouth turned up slightly made it all too clear that she’d noticed.

“So good to see you again, Sybil.” 

Sybil blinked. What had Red just said? She’d been too busy admiring the way those soft curls framed her jaw. Oh god, she probably looked like an absolute ditz. Distraction, distraction!

“What’s this?” She hastily nodded towards the small leather-bound notebook on the table.

Red smiled fondly down at the book. “Oh, nothing. Just a few lyrics. Passes the time before shows.”

“May I?” Red opened her mouth to respond, but Sybil had already snatched the book and flipped it open.

_ Maybe you're looking for someone to blame/Fighting for air while you circle the drain/Never be sorry for your little time/It's not when you get there, it's always the climb _

She turned the page. The paper was filled with scratched out words and phrases, the final product barely decipherable.

 

_ Seconds march into the past/The moments pass/And just like that they're gone _

_ The river always finds the sea/So helplessly/Like you find me _

_ We are paper boats floating on a stream/And it would seem/We'll never be apart _

_ I will always find you/Like it's written in the stars/You can run, but you can't hide/Try _

 

Sybil flicked her gaze up to meet Red’s. The woman was staring intently at her face, scanning for any sort of reaction. She bit her lip and Sybil fought to keep her eyes on the paper.

“It’s just the start, I- I mean, there’s still so much-”

“I think it’s beautiful.” Red’s face lit up. She looked like an angel to Sybil.

“You… you really think so?”

“Honestly, it hardly comes as a surprise anymore. You don’t need  _ me _ to tell you you’re talented.” Sybil winked and slid the notebook back across the table. “Now, let’s get out of here. Rumor has it that Yon-Dale is going to paint the sky today, and I’ve got some business with her.”   
  


* * *

“Sybil, I don’t see how scaring off the customers from every establishment in Cloudbank could possibly be worth the attention.”

“I did not scare them! I just smiled. How could that possibly scare anyone?”

Red rolled her eyes as she slid off her dress and pulled another off of a nearby hangar. Sybil’s voice echoed out from her dressing room across the hallway.

“And besides, they should be thanking me for gracing this shop with my presence.” Red laughed, and Sybil decided that it was her new favorite sound. She could listen to her laugh for hours. Tossing her silver locks over one shoulder, she stepped out of her dressing room. “Did you try on that gold dress yet? We’re not leaving until I’ve seen you in it.”

“Alright, alright, if you insist.” Red pulled the dress in question off the hook, and slipped into it. The gown was form fitting, tight over her chest and hips before flaring out into a puddle of gold at her feet. The halter top was bound by intricate swirls that crept over her shoulders and down her back. Red didn’t even want to know how many zeros were on the price tag. 

Outside, Sybil swiped on another layer of lip gloss as she scrutinized her reflection in a small, hanging mirror. 

“You know, that dress was part of Darzi’s newest collection. I could have him tailor it- he works for us now- and you could-” Sybil’s voice died in her throat as Red stepped out. 

“I can’t accept this, Sybil, it’s so grand, I couldn’t possibly afford it.” Sybil could only shake her head. Her eyes raked up and down her figure, taking in the absolute vision currently fidgeting in front of her. 

“It’s… Red, it’s just.. Its beautiful. Really. You look gorgeous. Radiant.” Sybil could have kicked herself. Too much! Dammit Sybil, pull yourself together. Red laughed, and Sybil finally regained her composure. “Of course, it would look even better on me, but I suppose you do it justice.” The singer rolled her eyes. “Here, this always helps dresses like this.” Sybil abruptly tugged the front of the other woman’s dress down, pushing her chest out to the point of modesty.

“Sybil!” True to her name, Red’s face burned as she swatted away her hands. Sybil only laughed, tapping the woman's nose with her finger.

“There. It looks excellent. And now I’m going to go buy it for you.” Red immediately opened her mouth to protest. “Shush! Don’t argue with me. I’ve made up my mind, now go get changed.”

 

* * *

 

“I can’t do this, Sybil.” Red paced anxiously in her dressing room. Sybil sat curled up in a worn armchair, absently examining her manicure.

“Of course you can, and you will.” This night would mark the first of Red’s performances at The Empty Set. Hundreds of people were packed tightly into the atrium, their cheers spilling out into the night air. The posters of Red that Sybil ordered had almost certainly earned their money’s worth. 

“You can’t just force me to perform!”

“Oh, can’t I?” Sybil raised an eyebrow in an almost patronizing tone. “Darling, you forget who you’re talking to. I have friends here tonight, so you’re going out on that stage.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. Asher had said that he might stop by, if only to collect data. Grant had been busy with administrative whatever business, and Sybil hadn’t even tried to talk to Royce.

Red knew better than to argue with that. Swallowing hard, she practiced taking deep, even breaths in front of her mirror. Soon, she felt delicate hands running through her hair. Sybil curled up the strands, twisting them around her fingers before pinning the locks with delicate gold clips. Red’s eyes drifted closed, humming as Sybil carefully shaped her hair into an artful twist.

_ 8:53 pm. _ Sybil let her hands rest on this singer’s shoulders, admiring her work. Red’s eyes opened softly. She gave the woman a small smile in the mirror, and Sybil felt her heart soar. 

“Thank you Sybil. Really. Everything you’ve done for me, it’s-”

“Red.” Sybil stepped in front of the chair. “You don’t need to thank me.” There was a moment of silence. Red was still smiling softly, a look that Sybil memorized in an instant. Without thinking, she leaned down and cupped the side of her face with a gloved hand. “You’ve deserved everything that I’ve given you. And more.” She traced her thumb down Red’s jawline, the warmth of her skin seeping through her glove and making her fingertips burn. 

“Sybil, I-” Red’s voice was painfully tense. All at once, reality came back to her, and Sybil hastily snapped her hand back. 

“I think-”

“No, its-”

“We should-”

They both stopped. Sybil took in Red’s look of confusion. Concern. Realization.

This wasn’t how she’d planned this moment. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. She took in the look in Red’s eyes, and felt something inside of her shatter. So for once, she did the one thing she’d vowed to never do. The ultimate show of weakness. Without so much as a backward glance, Sybil turned and ran.

 

* * *

 

Shit. ShitshitshitmotherFUCKINGshit. In what universe could that have possibly been a good idea?! Sybil all but sprinted down the hall, skirts flying. She couldn't go back. It was only a matter of time before Red put two and two together. She was a smart woman, after all. She must be horrified. Repulsed. Sybil panicked, heartbeat pounding in her ears. Red had been one of their most promising subjects, she'd heard Grant say so himself. And Sybil had just chased her off. The others would be furious, they would make her leave, and she’d be reduced to nothing again. She felt her eyes began to well up, a knot growing in her throat.

No. She was acting ridiculous. She stood for a few minutes, taking deep even breaths. She could go back there. She would go back there. And she would talk to her. Maybe she still had time.

Sybil turned and hurried back. There was no telling how Red would feel. Maybe… Maybe she wouldn't push Sybil away. She hadn't exactly shied away before, after all. And no one could possibly refuse a member of the Camerata. Sybil Reisz was practically royalty. Sybil felt her heart fluttering madly as she turned the corner to the hallway. She would tell her, then. And if Red felt the same way, then… well, who could stop them? Red could join the Camerata and stay with the four of them. They could spend the nights together, getting Junction Jan’s (it would have to be Harvest Garden though, Sybil couldn't stand anything else), stay up chatting about anything really, and spend the days touring and planning with the rest of the boys. Red would fit right in. She could spend afternoons cuddling with her in the hammock in the Sandbox and Sybil could listen to her sing. Sybil would listen to her read the damn phone book, so long as it was Red, her Red, and she could hold her and touch her and-

Sybil froze. There was a man at Red’s door. Her Red’s door. He was tall and stocky, cropped dark hair and bandages wrapped around his arms. A fan? Possibly. Sybil was still waiting on that damn archivist for family records, so there was no way to be certain. She hung back, feeling out of place for the first time in years. If she could just approach him, then he would realize who she was and leave. It would-

The door flew open with a sudden snap. In a blur of crimson and gold, Red lept into the man's arms. Sybil felt her heart drop like a stone. The man spun her singer around, grasping her tightly as he peppered her face with kisses. Sybil forgot to breath as Red laughed, the woman’s eyes filling with adoration. Adoration for some man who Sybil had never even heard of. Never even seen. She felt sick just watching them. She willed herself to move anywhere, just to get out of that hallway, but her feet were glued to the floor. And so Sybil stood, helpless as the man carried her Red back into the room. The door slammed  shut and the hallway was silent once again.

 

* * *

 

“You’re going to break the glass if you keep that up.” Sybil glared over at Asher as she tapped her fingernails against the base of her cocktail. From her seat their table, she could just barely get a view of Red and that man across the restaurant. On a date. Together. Even though the singer’s face was obscured by a pair of sunglasses (the ones that Sybil had bought for her, she noted with a pang), the brilliant red curls were unmistakable. The man across from her was still wearing those repulsive bandages, but he’d clearly made attempts to slick back his hair. Pathetic. She watched with thinly veiled fury as Red giggled and sipped her drink. And it was that utter fool making her laugh. Sybil frowned, bitter jealousy making her eyes sting. He was clumsy and disorganized, an arrogant ass who could do absolutely nothing for her. Not like Sybil could. Sybil would have given her the world, would have flown up to the heavens and back to bring her the stars. This man probably expected Red to pay for their meal afterwards. 

“Sybil, if you’ve just come to stare at those two, then I’m leaving. This is a waste of precious time.”

“She’s all over him.” She gritted her teeth, still straining to catch a glimpse of the pair. “What does it matter to you anyway?”

Asher’s face darkened suddenly and leaned forward sharply, nearly upsetting his glass.

“What does it matter?!” He spat, voice low. “You've let this petty distraction consume your every waking moment. Each day the Process gets stronger and stronger. Bracket’s research shows that some have even stopped responding to simple commands. Do you know what this means?!” Asher gestured wildly. “We’ve bred millions, billions of them already. They could consume the world at this rate!” Sybil was frozen, eyes wide. “This has the potential to undermine our entire operation, and you’ve dragged me here so that we can waste our time stalking this expendable woman like a pair of dawdling schoolgirls!” Each word was a slap in the face. Asher stood and grabbed his briefcase. “You’re a member of the Camerata, the most influential and elite group in all of Cloudbank. You’d do well to stop acting like a child.” With that, he stalked out of the restaurant.

Sybil was stunned. Royce had never even suggested that anything could be going wrong. To think that their greatest success, these corrupted cells, could topple each carefully balanced tower the Camerata had built… It would mean destruction. For all of Cloudbank. Maybe even the world. The whole damn city would be consumed within minutes. Once the Process grew that big, there would be no stopping it. She’d seen the cells overcome whole buildings, and create that massive horror of a Spine. All it would take was a few missteps on their part, and then-

She had to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Just a warning: The next chapter will contain some non con. There will not be any smut, but since there isn't any voiced consent its worth mentioning. If anyone would like to skip it and get a little summary of the plot oriented events, I'll leave a summary in the next chapters' an. Hope this helps.


	3. Chapter 3

Asher ran a hand through his hair, tugging his scarf loose. His husband was flicking through files at his desk. The faces of their subjects flipped by as he made occasional notes. The industrial clock next to him read 11:40.

Asher blinked tiredly. Grant had been at this for hours, and he knew for a fact that he hadn’t stopped for dinner. Admittedly, neither had he, but Asher had the right to be concerned.

“Grant.” Asher watched as Grant sighed, still shuffling the papers.

“I don't need your mothering.”

“You’ve been working yourself into the ground. Any more of that would just hinder our progress.” Asher reached out to the older man, rubbing his shoulders.” You need to-”

“Hinder our progress?!” Grant swiveled around, and Asher knew instantly that something was wrong. “As if your little outings with Sybil haven't been ‘hindering our progress’.”

Asher’s voice lowered. “Its research, Grant. We need-”

“We already have plenty of handholds in almost every industry!”

Asher was dumbstruck. He’d underestimated how on edge Grant was. “Come on, what’s this really about-”

“It’s about you, and how you’ve once again failed to meet our standard! This is useless, Asher. You’ve just been wasting my time.”

_Useless_. Asher gulped, disbelief and hurt flooding through him. Grant knew that was Asher’s weakest point. He knew, and he could still toss it around so easily, just because he knew it would hurt.

“Fine!” Asher snapped. “So I’ve indulged her, it won’t happen again-”

Grant’s eyes widened. “You’re damn right it won't! We need every one of those cells under surveillance, we can’t afford to lose all of this!”

“That’s what I’ve been-” Grant cut him off again, almost yelling now.

“Of course! And that’s why the population has increased by a full 24% without our knowledge. By now, they’re large enough to consume everything and we would be powerless to stop them! Let’s just hope they don’t somehow manage to figure that out!” Grant stood, looming over Asher. “We could have had everything under control by now if you hadn’t been slacking off.”

Asher fumbled for words, crumbling under Grants piercing glare. “I’m just trying to help- keep the Process going a-and-” He protested.

“And you’ve been doing an excellent job of that, sweetheart,” Grant spat.

Asher gaped at him, betrayal and hurt written all over his face. Grant had never done this- never mocked him or cut him down and thrown his most aching faults back in his face. He suddenly felt more alone than he ever had in his life.

Grant seemed to calm at Asher’s expression, realizing he’d crossed the line. “Asher-”

“No.” Grant halted. He sound so… small. So defeated. “Everything I’ve done was for you. It’s all been… for you.” Asher’s voice trembled, and he choked back a pained sob. Grant’s face softened.

“Asher, I-” But Asher was already gone, stumbling through the door and out of sight.

* * *

Sybil groaned. How had she let herself get in this deep? She burrowed deeper into her hammock, letting the gentle swing lull her into a doze. The familiar warmth and whisper of waves usually worked wonders on her frazzled nerves. It seemed that not even her Sandbox could be of any help. A soft breeze carried the music to her. Sybil eyed her record player resting close by in the golden sand. It was her music, of course.

She was enamoured- no, _obsessed_ \- with that woman. That ravishing minx of a woman. That frustratingly beautiful-

“Agh, dammit,” She clambered out of the hammock, restless. This was getting ridiculous. Sybil hadn’t been able to get any work done in weeks. That singer was always there, in the back of her mind, tantalizing her and teasing her. The way she would pull her curls back away from her face, or pout her lips, or raise an eyebrow and smirk- oh god that smirk. Sybil wasn’t used to feeling so inferior, so utterly wrapped around someone else’s finger. That had always been everyone else’s job. Now she understood why she herself had been able to hold so much power over the people of Cloudbank. This desperation… It was torture.

“Recent activity in priority subjects detected.” The disjointed, electronic voice flooded the room. She shot up, glancing at the flickering ceiling of her Sandbox. Could it be-?

“Display.”

And there she was. The once cobalt blue sky was replaced with large images and news articles. Each bared the same picture. Sybil frowned as the image of Red with that brute came into view. It was a candid photo of the two standing by a terminal. Her right arm was looped through his as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. Red’s eyes were closed, and Sybil felt a pang in her chest. She looked like she was in heaven.

Sybil stared for a few minutes, stomach twisting into knots. And then, she noticed it. That wasn’t- no it couldn’t- she hadn’t picked up any trace of this on her records, this couldn’t possibly be- She finally found her voice, and haltingly called out.

“Computer, zoom on coordinates x76298 y96158.”

The picture zoomed in, details whirring into focus.

“Enhance.” The picture sharpened and Sybil couldn’t keep back her tears. There it was. On Red’s delicate left hand, on the fourth finger of her left hand, a golden triangle framing a gleaming red ruby. A ring.

* * *

 

It was dark and quiet in the tower as the Administrator trudged down the hall. The door to their room was slightly ajar. Asher must have come back while Grant was still working. Sucking in a breath, he eased it open and slipped inside. Slants of moonlight through the windows illuminated the figure curled up under the sheets. He could just make out the ruffled blonde hair.

Grant took a moment to stare at his husband. He knew how devoted Asher was to him. It what had first made him really notice the man. The journalist’s burning curiosity and genuine desire to learn had as well. He’d stood out from the others that way, fueled by the need to learn for himself, not just to please the public. It was only a matter of time before Asher had set his sights on him, the highest ranking Administrator. Grant couldn’t deny that he’d loved the attention. The way the man pursued him relentlessly, hungry for any sliver of information.

Then Asher had joined the Camerata, at Grant’s request. Suddenly there were hundreds of thousands of archives and intel at his fingertips. That was when Grant had finally admitted that he… trusted him. That was all he’d felt comfortable with saying at the time. But then Asher began looking at the older man differently. _“Everything I’ve done was for you. It’s all been...for you.”_ This man… what he wouldn’t do for this man.

A rustling from the dresser made him glance to the side, only to be met with the gaze of the cat. Asher’s cat. It’s large, red eyes narrowed. ‘Like a mother warding off a bully,’ Grant thought bitterly. He brushed it off, sidling closer to the bed and easing himself down onto his side. The mattress dipped under his weight, but the form curled away from him was still silent.

Hesitating, Grant reached out to Asher. He felt him twitch as his hand touched his hair, fingers carding through the soft waves. For a moment there was nothing but the heavy silence. Grant said a silent prayer as he looked down at his husband.

“I’m scared, Asher.”

“And you don’t think I am?”

Grant exhaled, guilt eating away at him. “I know, there’s no excuse, and it was- I would never...”

Nothing.

“I’m so sorry, love.”

Still nothing. And then, finally, he heard a long, shaky sigh. Grant pulled Asher into him, feeling the man’s body unfurl into his chest. They lay there for what felt like hours, Grant holding him tightly and rubbing circles into his back. Finally, he pulled away, tilting Asher’s chin up to meet his gaze.

“We can still control them. Those little cells, they exist to serve the city. Royce can keep a handle on the smaller cells.” Asher nodded along with him as he continued. “We could work together to start eliminating the bigger ones. Keep the Spine, but start lowering the population of ‘Men’, ‘Jerks’ and those ‘Young Ladies’. Enough to intimidate, but not enough to rebel.”

“Efficient. Simple, easy crowd control.”

“Exactly.” Asher managed a small smile. “We led them in, we can take them back out. This has always been under our control.” The smaller man leaned up to kiss him softly. As they pulled away, Grant marveled at the man in his arms.

“How will I ever endeavor to deserve you?”

Asher scoffed and buried his face in the crook of his neck. "Good night, Grant."

* * *

 

Sybil out of her Sandbox, the illusion shattering as she crossed the rippling door. She could feel her resolve crumbling, every carefully crafted image she’d built for herself shattering like glass. How could this have happened, after all she’d done, she thought she’d known that woman and now…

Her ankle twisted, and she tumbled to the floor. Blood roaring in her ears, she squeezed her eyes shut and suddenly the floor gave out beneath her and she was falling, everything was void and black and she couldn't breath, she was being swallowed and crushed.

She opened her eyes again, head clearing, and willed herself to stand.

She needed something.

_Someone._

Anyone, really.

Already, Sybil felt her brain beginning to go blissfully numb. As if she was in a dream, she saw herself turn and hurry down the hallway.

* * *

 

She marched into his office, without regard to the carefully penciled notes balanced precariously around the room. Hunched over his desk, Royce Bracket barely flinched at the sound of her entrance. Sybil gripped the arm of his chair and swung it around. Royce blinked up at her, bored. “Sybil, what has got-” She cut him off, pulling him forward by the lapels of his coat and crushing her mouth against his. His body jerked, surprised. She tangled her fingers into his already mussed hair and pulled, baring his throat. His skin was pale, almost white. Not in the milky way Red’s was, but sickly and sallow. It would have to do though.

She pressed hot, biting kisses to his skin, and felt him go completely rigid in her arms. This felt wrong. Horrible. This was Royce Bracket, manic robotic scientist Royce Bracket. But she’d never felt so alone and Royce was right there and he wasn’t protesting so surely what she was doing wasn’t bad. But bad or not, it still wasn’t enough. Desperate for something, anything, she hitched her leg up to straddle his lap. Her tongue forced into his mouth, and she felt his breath hitch. Good. Now they were getting somewhere. She ground her hips down roughly. His sharp hipbones were digging into her legs but she didn’t care. Hands shaking, she reached down to undo his belt. She hid her face behind her hair as she fumbled at the clasp, so that he wouldn’t see her tears. She hated this. Her brain kept screaming that this was wrong, this was Royce, so she rolled her hips again, pushing harder and biting down onto his lip. His mouth tasted of mint. Toothpaste, her brain vaguely registered. Disgustingly generic and not at all like Red, who would have tasted like salted butterscotch and jasmine. All of a sudden, she felt Royce’s body slacken.

“Oh, now I see. It’s, why, it’s so painfully obvious. You love her.” Sybil froze. “That's it, of course, I wonder why I didn't see it. You, you love her, and she-”

Indignant, Sybil leaned back down towards his neck but was stopped by nimble fingers on her shoulders. He raised an eyebrow at her, looking almost bemused. “Well now, this is just, it’s just pathetic is what it is. You really think that I, of all people, could, in a manner of speaking, help you with this? Come come, Sybil. You never have been subtle about anything.”

Royce leaned down, an eyebrow raised and eyes glinting. She couldn’t meet his gaze. “I’d thought better of you, _dear_.”

Sybil’s repulsion hit her full force. She jumped up and swept out of the room, burying her shaking hands in the folds of her skirt. She could barely see the floor, her vision was clouded over with tears. All that she could register was Royce’s soft laughter following her out and echoing through the empty halls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who skipped the nsfw bit, is was basically just Sybil being lonely and Royce being an ass.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is already complete, but I'm open to any oneshots based on it if anyone has requests!


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